One Night with the Duke (Belmore Square #1) Read Online Jodi Ellen Malpas

Categories Genre: Historical Fiction, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Belmore Square Series by Jodi Ellen Malpas
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Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
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I am merely here for the conversation.

And the tingles.

My lips pressed into an angry line, I slam the window closed and return to my bed, feeling hotter. Sicker. ‘What are you blabbering on about, Clara?’ I snap.

‘Lizzy Fallow is said to be courting Viscount Millingdale.’

‘What?’ I gasp, deeply shocked.

Clara, understandably, shudders. ‘He is so old! Goodness, Eliza, what if I am expected to marry a man fit for a coffin?’ She looks at me with warranted horror. ‘I could not stand it!’

‘If a man is fit to sire a son, he is fair game, so long as he carries clout and cash, but most importantly, a title.’ I imagine Mrs Fallow is dancing with joy this morning. I saw the way in which she regarded my title-less brother. ‘Frank,’ I say. ‘Does he know?’ Will he care?

‘He is yet to rise.’ She frowns. ‘After he escorted you home, he returned to the party and became very drunk. Father was forced to summon Dalton to help carry him home.’

‘And where, may I ask, were you, because you were not with Mama as you told Papa?’

Clara’s sudden shifting is worrying. ‘I was with Mama for the entire evening.’

‘I beg to differ.’

‘How would you know?’ she asks with a smugness I’m sure I shouldn’t appreciate. ‘I saw you sneak out yourself. So where, may I ask, dear sister, did you go?’

‘I already told you,’ I give my pillow a good thwack and slam my head down upon it. I regret my move immediately. My head is ringing, and, sadly, alcohol is not the cause, ‘I was unwell. I will just ask Mama if you were with her.’

She pouts. ‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’

I narrow my eyes, and she smiles, dipping to kiss my cheek but quickly thinking better of it, her nose wrinkling. ‘God, you whiff.’ She leaves with haste, shutting the door loudly behind her. It appears yesterday eve was quite a night for all involved. My thoughts turn to Lizzy Fallow. How must she be feeling? Dreadful, I expect. Frederick is hardly a ball of joy, but at least he can still walk without the aid of a stick. The poor thing. She is not my favourite person, but she is not as awful as Lady Dare, so I should call upon her later and offer my condolences.

Just as soon as this irritating wave of nausea has passed.

It did not pass that day. Nor the next day. Neither was it out of my system one week later. By day eight, I was becoming increasingly worried for my heart. Was it broken? Would I die of heartbreak? I must admit, it was with regret that when I left the Duke’s house on that evening, I knew I would not find myself in his company again. It was with even more regret that I bore witness to another visitor on that very same evening, and it was with even more regret that I, with great reluctance, I must say, admitted that I had fallen for the Duke. How, I do not know. Attraction, I suppose, for he has not many other decent qualities.

I must stop lying to myself. He has many qualities that attract me. Acceptance, being one. A desire to indulge me in conversation is another. His ability to instigate those wonderful tingles is another.

Alas, all of those qualities, except, of course, his handsomeness, are now lost. He is a pig, and I am grateful to have been bedridden for this past week. My chances of bumping into him are non-existent if I cannot leave the house. In truth, my sickness has been somewhat of a respite, the perfect excuse to avoid society, and, thankfully, Frederick. Though he has called upon me. Every bloody day at the same time. He even bought me flowers yesterday. Poor chap. It would seem he is very concerned. He would only be concerned if he cared.

There is a knock at my door and Emma enters with a bowl of fresh soapy water, Mother in tow. ‘Place it on the dresser, Emma,’ she orders, coming to the bed and feeling my forehead. ‘Hmmm,’ she hums. ‘The fever has passed.’

‘I feel better,’ I admit, shuffling to sit up. ‘I think perhaps today I can dress.’

‘And a walk. A walk should do you good.’

I inwardly groan. ‘One step at a time, Mama.’

‘Everyone thinks you are dead, Eliza. We need to put their minds at rest.’

‘They care not if I am dead,’ I say over a laugh. ‘I expect Lymington already has a replacement lined up for Frederick.’ I hope he has. That would answer all my prayers. ‘I’m a bit stiff,’ I admit.

‘Nothing a walk won’t fix. Come now.’

I endure her fuss, letting her help me bathe and dress. In fact, I quite relish her attentiveness and find it rather easy to ignore her motives. Mother could have quite easily passed the chore of tending to me onto our staff, but she has chosen to take care of me herself. Just as she always did. We had no governess. One maid was all we needed. ‘You are but skin and bones, Eliza,’ she whines as she pulls my stay to its tightest with ease. ‘A man should like a lady––’


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